


Woo Me at Sunset

by FonDaBoo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron) Lives, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, But also, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, He wants to woo, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Loverboy Lance, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Shy Keith (Voltron), Shy Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Some Plot, Voltron: Legendary Defender Season/Series 08, goodybye canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FonDaBoo/pseuds/FonDaBoo
Summary: Keith’s voice is exasperated but desert warm, “the team sharpshooter and...the co-leader of Voltron—” His eyelashes flutter over his cheeks delicately, casting creeping shadows beneath his eyes. Lance is so distracted by them he almost doesn’t process Keith's next words “—and my partner. In every way that matters. The one person who always has my back.”Lance is...floored. And also a little emotional. His eyes are burning and the smile he tries to summon is wobbly. Keith lifts a hand and wipes away the wetness beneath Lance’s eyes. His own smile is apologetic, marshmallow soft at the edges.“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”Laughter bursts out of Lance’s chest unbidden. The words are soft, surprised, innocent.He presses his cheek to Keith’s palm, turning his face and mumbling into it. Lips ghosting over the callouses. “God, I love you so much.”“What?”-Or snapshots of reunion and love in times of war
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Lance's Family (Voltron), Lance & Lance's Mother (Voltron)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 165





	Woo Me at Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody!
> 
> If you’d like you can find me on Twitter @FonDaBohh
> 
> Just a few quick notes to begin!  
> This oneshot is obviously set outside of the actual reality that was the conclusion of Voltron. In this au Lance and Keith had been dancing around each other for ages but then Keith left for the BOM so obviously nothing was really resolved. 
> 
> Keith's return to Voltron wasn't how I'd initially pictured but I always imagined Lance to be quite...bitter over it. To feel betrayed, so I really wanted to write a resolution that would encompass Keith and Lance trying to communicate after so much time apart. This of course led into an actual confession (aka the sunset scene but BETTER) and then a new ending where Allura DIDN'T sacrifice herself.
> 
> Obviously, do not repost+++ 
> 
> Enjoy!

The hot water drums heavily onto Lance’s back, massaging the stress from his shoulders. He lets the water run over his face once more before turning it off and stepping out into the steaming bathroom.

Lance towels his body and hair off roughly, forgoing his usual skincare routine and instead dressing in the softest clothes he owns; a stretchy black shirt that he can’t remember buying and a worn pair of sweats. He drags his hands over the door’s sensor and stumbles out, flopping face-first onto his bed.

Lance rolls onto his back with a groan, restlessly dragging his hands over his face.

_Keith is back._

_Cooler. Bigger. Grizzled._

_I don’t have time for this, Lance._ He’d said but all Lance heard was _I don’t have time for you_ . And isn’t that just the way it’s always been, Keith has always been ahead of him, always charging forward. The golden boy of the garrison, the pilot of the black lion. Keith has _always_ been too good for Lance in _every_ way possible but he still ended up chasing after him, choking on his insecurities and _stupidly_ hopeful.

He feels so... _dumb._ He’d thought— _wished, dreamed—_ that when Keith came back things would just pick up where they left off, or at least they’d still be on equal footing, but _no_. Keith is two years older— _two whole years_ —and has a cool space wolf and his fierce Galra mother and can drop shocking revelations on team Voltron without blinking. It’s that thought that makes Lance pull his hands away from his face, jaw clenched. 

After Keith had alerted them to Lotor’s _transgressions_ , they’d sedated the Galran emperor and thrown him in the Castle’s equivalent of a dungeon, with cameras monitoring the room inside and out. Each of them had then retreated to their rooms. Quiet. Subdued. Both Shiro and Allura had looked physically _ill._

Lance stares at the ceiling, _god_ , he can’t imagine how the princess must be feeling. To have everything she’s known completely and utterly ruined. There had been crippling devastation on her face, lining her every movement and breath. It was obvious she’d cared for Lotor deeply. They had connected through their passion for their Altean heritage, for their love of alchemy; to know Lotor had been using Alteans for his own benefit, behind Allura’s back...it’s _disgusting_. 

It breaks his heart. To know that a dear friend, someone who is _family_ to him, is hurting and that he can do absolutely nothing but be nothing but a comforting presence, Allura has been through enough. She doesn't deserve any of this. 

Lance grits his teeth against the burning in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t felt since he became a paladin of Voltron, a soldier, was helpless. But now? It’s the _only_ thing he feels, the only discernible emotion in the swirling vortex of feelings in his chest. It crawls through his lungs and settles behind his ribs. It’s heavy, fierce. Cloying together with the steamy air emanating from the bathroom.

Lance sits up with a scowl. He certainly won't get any rest like this. He throws his shoes on and is in the middle of tucking his bayard away in the waistband of his pants when the door slides open, bathing the shadowy room in a pale light that morphs his figure into a spindly shadow splayed against the walls

“Can I come in?” a voice ventures carefully.

Lance jumps, heart seizing in his chest, panic flooding his veins and triggering instincts honed by war. His bayard reacts instinctively with a flash, transforming into a red broadsword. He turns towards the figure in the doorway, bayard raised defensively. His eyes skitter away from the broad shoulders, the small white scar on their bottom lip, their lovely dark eyes that widen with surprise when they behold Lance’s sword.

“You have a sword,” Keith says, more of a statement than a question, his voice quiet but steady. _Awed_ . The reverent tone is enough to knock Lance off balance. It’s _unsettling._ He squeezes the bayard and it returns to its original form. 

Lance crosses his arms, bayard still gripped tightly in his hand, and turns to face Keith fully. He aims for nonchalance but in reality, his posture is too tense to be anything but uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “What do you want, Keith?”

Unfortunately, the boy— _man_ —in question, seems to take that as an invitation and steps completely into the room, the doors closing with a sense of resounding finality that Lance abhors.

Keith runs a hand through his unruly self hair, glancing away from Lance’s rumpled bed covers and collection of knick-knacks. “I wanted to talk to you. About Lotor and...it’s been a really long time, for me at least and I...”

“You what?"

He steps towards Lance, expression earnest, and a little desperate. “I wanted to see you, just you. With everything I didn't—what happened, it wasn't really the reunion I imagined.” The words are soft. _Shy_ . Perhaps a little nervous, Lance isn't sure, whatever the case, he’s not in the mood. Keith doesn't get to disappear for a year, for _years_ , and then come back and pretend everything is hunky-dory. _Nope, no way, not happening_. 

Lance clears his throat, anger and hurt building in his chest. “That’s cool and all but I gotta go to the training room, keep the skills sharp and all that, so,” he goes to push past Keith but is stopped by a heavy hand to the shoulder. Keith’s touch burns through the thin t-shirt Lance wears and he’s struck again by the relief he felt when he saw Keith disembark from the Altean pod. Safe. _Whole._

“ _Lance_.” The word is tight, bordering on reproachful and Lance ignores the small swell of butterflies that fill his stomach at the sound of his name from Keith’s lips.

_You’re being told off dumbass, not wooed._

His jaw juts out indignantly as he tips his head to meet Keith’s eyes. He’s a little taller than Lance now, only by a couple of inches, but it’s enough that he has to lift his head to meet Keith’s eyes. It’s just another small, minuscule thing that makes him feel like he and Keith are on uneven footing. _Again._

“Let me go, Keith,” he snaps, shrugging off his hand. It falls away easily but Lance can feel the uncomfortable, burning, itch of frustration and panic claw at the inside of his chest, it makes his tone sharp and barbed. A younger Lance may have bitten his tongue, may have listened quietly, shirked away from the commanding tone, and fallen in line, but he’s different now. Keith had left, had begun smoothing down all his rough edges, only for Lance’s to grow in, painful and sharp, aching with the absence of something that couldn’t be filled or patched. 

Keith’s face flashes with something like hurt before it hardens. “I just want to talk,” Keith’s tone is imploring, his expression now wide open. “Like we used to. I’m not here to fight with you.”

Lance laughs bitterly. Doesn’t Keith understand _at all_ ? For so long Lance has been fighting Keith’s memory, his _phantom,_ and now that the real deal is in front of him, he doesn’t know what to do.

How to _stop._

The sharp words he has been mentally throwing at imaginary Keith for months are bubbling up his throat, filling the cavern of his mouth. It’s when Keith—the _real_ Keith’s eyes continue to earnestly search his face, that Lance’s emotions implode.

Unchecked.  
  
Rash.

“Talk like we used to, huh,” he says bitingly. “Well, you’ll have to forgive me if I don't know how to do that, _Keith_ , considering we haven't had any contact since Naxzela. Where you, y’know, tried to fly into a fucking bomb,” Lance throws his hands up dramatically, a small seed of satisfaction blooming when he sees Keith scowl darkly, thick eyebrows slanted in irritation. It’s an expression Lance remembers all too well, given how often it used to be directed towards him.

“There was a lot at stake, Lance. You—”

“—and then what did you do? You got stuck on a fucking space whale!” Lance drags a hand down his face. He’s sure he’s exuding some sort of crazed madman vibe but he honestly doesn't care. Lance feels like he’s fallen off the edge and, _damn him_ , but he almost likes it. He sees Keith open his mouth in protest and cuts him off. “Oh and I almost forgot, you also found a secret colony of _Alteans,_ Lotor was harvesting quintessence from, and _finally_ decided to come back and drop that shock bomb on all of us. Without _any_ warning.”

Keith’s scowl intensifies as he snaps back. “Would it be better if I’d stayed? If I'd never met Krolia, or never found out about Lotor?”

Lance flinches at the sharpness. “No of course not—”

“Then what's your problem?” Keith bites out. “You never trusted Lotor I thought you’d be glad that we finally got the guy, or are you still trying to keep up that dumb rivalry? I’m not going to try and take Red back if that’s what you’re worried about,” Keith presses a hand to his chest, dark eyes hurt, tone shifting from biting to something aching and sorrowful. “Lance, I would never—”

“—it hurt when you _left_ —” Lance hisses, crowding into Keith’s space. His eyes furiously meeting Keith's. Those stupid dark eyes that made him feel so many things, made him feel stupid and irritated and _worthy._ They’re still the same dark grey-purple colour they’ve always been. A gloomy _fucking_ lilac. His voice cracks around his next words, “—and you _broke_ my heart when you stayed away.” 

The words fall out of his mouth by accident and maybe a year ago Lance would have scrambled to cover them up but now he just lets them hang in the space between them. Lance slumps down onto his bed, gaze pointedly fixed on his shoes.

Embarrassment and humiliation, wash over him in burning waves, tingling from the tips of his toes and rising to his cheeks. Lance hears heavy footsteps and his first reaction is one of crushing disappointment because of course, Keith is leaving, _again_ , but when a pair of dark boots enter his vision, Lance blinks in surprise before his expression ices over again.

Keith crouches down in front of him and puts a gentle hand on his jaw, tilting Lance’s chin up. His stare is laced with softness even as Lance glares back coldly, jaw clenched against the warm touch of Keith’s fingers and the wetness in his eyes. He’s _supposed_ to leave, that’s Keith’s whole thing. He’s meant to leave and he and Lance just go back to what they were.

Strangers, rivals, friends, easy partners, it’s not meant to be _complicated._

Keith's fingers tighten on Lance’s chin. “I missed you every day in the abyss” he breathes. Each word falling from his lips like the lyrics of Lance’s favourite song, the one he’d listen to again and again as he fell asleep. “—and I missed you _every_ day before that. And...the team but—” Keith glances down. Eyelashes fanning out onto his pale cheeks. It’s the first sign of hesitation Lance has seen from this new, self assured Keith, and it’s almost endearing “—I missed you the _most_. When I was the Black Paladin and you were my right hand, my partner…” Keith shakes his head and flicks his eyes back up, “some days I thought it was going to eat me alive—missing you—and not knowing that you would be okay, it drove me crazy.”

Lance blinks slowly. Dazedly. He’d dreamt of Keith’s return a couple of times and in every dream it went something like this, eventually, however, he always woke up before it finished. Lance’s hand comes to rest on Keith’s wrist, gripping tight. If only to reassure himself that this is _real_ . A slow warmth, as gentle as a sunrise blooms inside his chest. Keith pushes his head forward to lean his forehead against Lance’s and brushes their noses together. His bangs tickle Lance’s nose and something about that makes him want to laugh. To _cry_. Lance can almost feel his icy exposure melting beneath Keith’s warm gaze. Part of him wants to hold onto his anger with desperate hands but Lance knows that it’s already slipped away. Disappearing like smoke. 

Lance is brought back to the present by Keith’s fingers tightening desperately against his jaw. “It broke my heart to stay away,” he murmurs, breath fanning over Lance’s lips.  
The urge to kiss Keith has never been stronger than in this moment and that’s saying a lot, considering how many times he’s thought about it. Keith is _right there._ Looking _very_ kissable. Kneeling so _devotedly_ before Lance that it makes him dizzy. 

He tightens his grip on Keith’s wrist, swallowing his desire. “I’m glad you’re back, Keith.” It’s a whisper. A vow. His own devotion out in the air. The words he _really_ wants to say rest on the tip of his tongue but they’re written on his face and if Keith hasn’t picked up on them, then he really is a dumbass. But with Lotor...it—they have a lot of catching up to do and Lance doesn't want to rush this. _Them_. Not after waiting this long.

He swallows and lifts a hand to run his fingers through Keith’s hair. It still looks a bit like a mullet. And it’s oddly comforting to see that same wash of dark hair, a little longer but still the same in essence. Still oddly _fluffy_ in the back. Keith hums pressing closer to Lance, skin to skin.

“Will you stay?” Lance asks, hoping he doesn't sound _too_ desperate. He’s supposed to be _suave,_ the lover boy. He has a reputation and no dark-haired ex-loner will ruin it on his watch. Keith pulls back slightly and nods, his cheeks a faint pink, eyes warm and hopeful and understanding. Filled with something intimate and tender. 

He pats the spot next to him, fingers gripping the sheets. Lance straightens in surprise when Keith sits on his lap instead and buries his face in Lance’s neck, curling around his shoulders slightly. Lance is almost _cradling_ him. There’s something so addictive about the feeling of Keith’s broad shoulders under Lance’s palms. Something so _reassuring._

Keith remains quiet, nose drawing lines up the column of Lance’s throat. His breath huffs onto the sensitive skin there and Lance’s fingers tighten on his back. He can feel Keith’s smirk against his neck.

 _Ass_.

He leans his head against Keith's, pushing him away from his now flushed neck. He bites his lip, noting how Keith’s stare catches on the movement. He smirks inwardly. He’d bask in it forever if he could. The heavy, _delicious_ weight of Keith’s attention. Keith _looking at_ him. “Will you tell me about it? The abyss.”

Keith’s shoulders tense minutely before relaxing under Lance’s hands and for a moment Lance wonders if he’s overstepped.

Keith lifts his head, surprise painted on his features. Lance keeps his expression open, gentle, but the longer Keith looks the hotter his cheeks feel. Keith lifts a hand and brushes Lance’s fringe back slowly. His lips are pursed, expression thoughtful. Considering. The hand on Lance’s face is gentle and loving and the careful way in which Keith tucks a strand of hair behind Lance’s ear makes him want to scream embarrassingly into a pillow. He presses his cheek to Keith’s palm determined to keep him there.

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, “I can do that.”

* * *

The black lion is a formidable figure lit by the orange light of the setting sun. Earth’s sun. Oddly enough Lance has never attempted to climb one of the lions from the ground up and it’s not...a fun experience. By the time Lance reaches the top, he’s sweaty and hot, the faint desert breeze a sweet relief. 

He peers over at the Black Paladin, taking a moment to admire him without judgement. His dark hair is blowing gently away from his face and his profile is lit by golden light. It reflects in his eyes turning them into twin dark suns, glowing with a core of molten fire. Lance swoons. Keith has always been beautiful. It used to annoy him to no end at the Garrison. In space.

He shakes his head, a flush rising to his cheeks despite the fact that no one has seen him. He has a mission. Keith. Dinner. _Focus, Lance, focus!_

“You can be a real hard guy to find when you want to be,” he quips, pulling himself up onto the head of the Lion. It had taken him over an hour to find Keith, a fact his sister, Veronica will be adding to her list of “ _Embarrassing Things Lance has done for Emo Boys_.” 

In all honesty it’s more like “ _Embarrassing Things Lance has done for one Emo Boy”_ but that’s neither here nor there.

Keith turns to him, eyes wide before a slow, warm smile blooms on his face.

“Lance.” His tone is honey smooth and the care in which he says Lance’s name causes him to _melt_. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, plopping down beside Keith and nudging their shoulders together. The stiff fabric of their uniforms brushes together with a quiet crinkle. “Well,” he tilts his head teasingly, “I had to come rescue the team leader from his own emo attitude. That’s like, my sacred duty as the Red Paladin.”

Keith pouts. “I’m not emo.” 

Lance shrugs, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. Their back and forth, their _banter,_ has always been Lance’s favourite thing to do with Keith. Even when he wasn’t totally, utterly, _completely_ in love with the guy.

Keith shifts slightly, his shoulder pressing closer Lance. Broad and defined even through the uniform. His voice is low, pitched quiet, despite the fact it’s just them and the wind. “But really,” he raises an eyebrow, “what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your... _family._ ”

Lance chances a glance at Keith. The other Paladin isn’t looking at him but gazing off into the desert. Lance lolls his head back, exposing his neck. Keith’s eyes flicker over to him briefly before snapping back to the front, cheeks pink. _Aha._

“I just...wanted to talk to you I guess. Maybe ask a few questions of the wise and enigmatic team leader.” The words are joking, a tease. A half-assed admission. Lance bites his lip. A nervous habit he’s had since childhood. “And...I’m worried. About tomorrow. About it being...the _end._ ” 

At that Keith looks at him. Eyebrows drawn low. Concerned. His own fears gathered at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not the end yet. We’re still fighting. We still have a chance.”

Lance sighs. “A bunch of humans and a couple of Alteans?” A frown graces his face. He can feel old doubts weighing on his shoulders, their sinking weight a shroud. “I don’t—I don’t _want_ —“ Lance cuts himself off, biting his tongue. Frustration bubbles in his chest and even the warm hand Keith lays over his own can’t abate it.

“ _Lance—“_

 _“—_ We’re the universe's last hope! _Us. Me._ And I—I don’t feel good enough.Or ready.” Lance pushes back his hair with his free hand. Keith is quiet beside him, hand still gripping his. 

There’s a weird sort of déjà vu around this situation. Reminiscent of the lion swap. When Lance had been questioning his place in the team and Keith had...comforted him. Hopefully this time he’d come up with something better than; _leave the math to Pidge._

It had assured him at the time. He’d trusted Keith and when he’d said there was nothing to worry Lance had believed him. But this is different. This is, for lack of a better word, the _end._ They need their best soldiers and those soldiers need to be confident in their abilities. Lance is... _not_. Since Shiro was revealed to have been a clone for _months_ and they only figured it out after Keith got back, Lance has had a hard time trusting his instincts. He’d known something was _off_ with Shiro, was _wrong_ , but he hadn’t done anything about it and logically he knows that the clone situation wasn't his fault but…

“You know who you are,” Keith says and Lance reigns in the urge to scoff. The derision must show on his face because Keith bumps his shoulder with his own, leaning his face closer to Lance’s. “You’re Lance. A paladin of Voltron, defender of the universe—”

“—a boy from Cuba—”

“—also a boy from Cuba,” Keith’s voice is exasperated but desert warm, “the team sharpshooter and...the co-leader of Voltron—” His eyelashes flutter over his cheeks delicately, casting creeping shadows beneath his eyes. Lance is so distracted by them he almost doesn’t process Keith's next words “—and my partner. In every way that matters. The one person who _always_ has my back.”

Lance is... _floored._ And also a little emotional. His eyes are burning and the smile he tries to summon is wobbly. Keith lifts a hand and wipes away the wetness beneath Lance’s eyes. His own smile is apologetic, marshmallow soft at the edges. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

Laughter bursts out of Lance’s chest unbidden. The words are soft, surprised, _innocent._

He presses his cheek to Keith’s palm, turning his face and mumbling into it. Lips ghosting over the callouses. “ _God,_ I love you so much.”

“ _What?_ ”

Lance’s head snaps up. Keith’s eyes are large and dark. His face flushed by more than the red light of dusk. _Uhhh._

Lance’s hands come to rise defensively in front of him as if to ward off Keith and all his... _Keith-ness._ The invisible comfort of his encouraging words.This wasn’t supposed to happen here. His (possible) confession was supposed to happen somewhere with candles and flowers where his hair wasn’t mussed by the wind, wearing _that_ one shirt that brings out his eyes.

“ _Coño!_ Look at the time, well I really better get going. Paladin duties and the like,” Lance scrambles back towards the ledge peering over it with a cringe as Keith shakes himself from his flushed stupor. 

“Lance, come back!”

Keith leans forward and catches him by the wrist pulling him closer. Knee to knee. Lance curses his hesitation. He turns his face, hiding his expression from Keith. Lance’s cheeks burn and he bites his lip, feeling as if he’s been scolded. Keith’s gentle fingers press against his jaw, five searing points of contact against his already hot skin

Keith tilts his head, mouth set in a firm line but eyes swirling with apprehension. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Lance’s words are breathy, focus disrupted by Keith’s proximity, nerves dissolving in the dying light.

Keith’s mullet hangs over his eyes in haphazard strands and Lance’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush them away. “Do you,” Keith says, honey slow and voice thick, “love me?”

Lance blinks. Once. Twice. He can feel a laugh bubbling inside his chest.

“Are you serious?” The words are tinged with incredulity.

Keith frowns. “You confessed and then tried to jump off my lion. They’re very contradictory actions, it’s confusing—”

—Lance pushes forward, capturing Keith’s lips in a fervent kiss. He feels Keith's fingers tighten on his jaw, his other hand coming to rest on Lance’s chest, gripping his uniform. Keith’s sigh ghosts over his lips as Lance pulls away.

“I am so in love with you it makes me stupid,” Lance says, voice a little shaky, lips tingling with the remnants of Keith’s warmth. “And I wanted to wait,” he sucks in a breath, “I wanted to wait because of a lot of things. Like Lotor and Shiro and I wanted to wait so that when I could finally use all of my loverboy charm to woo you—” Keith chuckles, the sound as soft as the sand of Varadero “—I could be as selfish as I wanted. _God_ , Keith,” Lance’s fingers clench around his waist, pulling the fabric tight, “I want to take up all of your time. I want to look at your stupid mullet everyday even though it’s outdated and you use soap to wash it—” Keith starts protesting at that but Lance shushes him with a kiss, delighting in how easy it feels “—even though you’re a dumbass and half alien and my former rival, I am, _embarrassingly_ , into you.”

Keith hums, eyes shining. “You know that was a pretty good speech, but the last bit could use some work.”

“ _Keith!_ ”

He leans into Lance’s warmth, noses bumping together. “You know me, Lance, I tend to... _speak_ with actions, I’m kind of impulsive and a hothead. Don’t laugh. But,” Keith sighs and Lance smiles. After all this— _minor—_ turmoil Lance has been facing since the mullet of his dreams disappeared into the ranks of the marmoran soldiers, it’s nice to have all his cards out there. To be completely transparent with his feelings, with someone other than his lion and his mami. Keith’s hand tightens on his chest, “with you...I want to tell you everything. _Anything_. And I want you to, uh,” Keith’s mouth twists, “ _woo_ me. But I want to do that for you too. You’re so sacrificing and amazingly outrageous and I want to bring you flowers and write you notes about how much I love you. This sounds so _sappy, oh my god._ ”

The last words are a disgusted mutter and they make Lance’s smile widen even as the breath is stolen from his lungs. He feels kind of _high_. Giddy. And the flushed look on Keith's cheeks makes him smug, though he knows his face is the same. “This is going to sound so _dumb_ , but Lance, we...” 

Keith’s smile is wide and open, his teeth on full display and this _feeling_ Lance has in his chest is like the birth of a new star. Bright and all encompassing, as large as the universe itself. Keith’s smile shifts into a smirk, “we are a good team.”

 _Nope, no way. Not happening._ Lance practically flings his arms away from Keith’s waist. “You know what? Forget I said _anything._ I take it back! All of it! I would never love such a dork.

Keith laughs. A deep, raspy chuckle that warms Lance from the inside out. “C’mon, Lance, that was kind of funny.”

Lance flops onto his back dramatically, a hand pressed to his forehead. “I can accept a bigger Keith, a more _grizzled_ Keith, but,” he pauses, throwing a playful glare towards the other paladin, “I absolutely cannot deal with a Keith that makes jokes! It’s just not right.”

Keith leans down and nuzzles Lance’s cheek, pressing a sweet kiss there. He can feel the imprint of a smile there. Lance turns his eyes towards him, lips quirked up at the corners. “So...does this mean you’ll be my boyfriend, team leader? Is fraternising with your subordinates allowed?”

Keith pokes Lance’s cheek. “You’re not my subordinate and—“ he frowns at Lance, but it’s playful, almost edging up into a smile “—of course I’ll be your…” Keith clears his throat, eyes flicking down. “ _Boyfriend.”_

A gentle, swooping feeling takes up the space between Lance’s ribs. It’s the feeling he gets when he thinks of his family, his mami and Varadero. When he tastes garlic knots and listens to his sister’s singing. A feeling of _home_. 

“Hey Keith?” 

Keith’s eyes meet his again, hair tickling his cheeks, his scar. “Yeah?”

“Will you come to dinner tonight?” Lance tangles their fingers together and pushes himself up on one elbow. His forgotten objective now remembered. His mother’s order ringing in his ears. _Leandro, make sure you bring your handsome black Paladin to dinner! I want to thank him for looking after my dear sweet boy._

“And meet my family? As my... _space ranger partner._ ” 

The corners of Keith’s eyes crinkle, a small smile blooming on his lips. Warm. Brimming with fondness. “Maybe.”

“ _Maybe?”_

Keith leans down, lips brushing Lance’s softly. There will be time for burning, fervent kisses later, under the light of the moon or the early dawn. Keith’s eyes are _sparkling,_ that same gloomy lilac now bright. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The walls of the cave look the same and Lance isn't sure if he’s disappointed or not. He supposes that after being in space for years he expected _everything_ to be different, including the place where it all began, the cave of the Blue Lion. His heart aches a little when he thinks of the lions, the feeling familiar and worn.

When they made it to the core of realities, to _Honerva,_ the rift had already been torn wide open, every reality being devoured by the tear in space and time. It had been a strange experience, their consciousnesses projected into the rift through their connections to the lions. Their bodies lying prone within Voltron while Shiro and the crew of the Atlas watched on, the gargantuan robot’s large arms locked around Honerva’s dormant robeast.

The inside of the rift had been a blinding, suffocating, white. Filled with the glittering fragments of destroyed realities. Honerva had been cowering there, more hag than witch or alchemist, her face filled with a wretched hatred. 

...

_“You think you can defeat me,” she’d said, “it is too late. I have failed in all but one task. The ruination of Voltron.” Her pale hair hung around her face looks ke dead snakes. Prone, barely moved by the strange wind blowing inside the rift. “No power you mortals can muster will defeat me. I am the inevitability of the destruction of all realities.”_

_Allura clenched her fists. Lance had thought she looked about one second away from punching the witch’s teeth in. Both Pidge and Keith looked the same._

_Lance had clenched his jaw, reigning in his own fury and pushing past the other paladins to crouch in front of Honerva. He’d vaguely wondered at the time whether or not she could tell how much he pitied her, whether she knew the amount of destruction, devastation she’d caused or if she was a fool. A powerful one, but still a fool._

_“How do we fix this?” A question. A demand. One Lance knew had an answer. A question she’d laughed at before turning her eyes to Allura._

_“Your princess could help me. With her gift of altean alchemy, her ability to manipulate quintessence she could help me repair the rift.” Honerva tilted her head and smiled at Allura, at Lance. It was creepy as fuck, made Lance wants to let Keith and Pidge loose but he resisted. He stared at her squarely. One eyebrow raised. The picture of nonchalance, though he was slowly descending into a panic the longer they were stuck within that god forsaken rift._

_Honerva sighed. Almost bored. “It would take the ultimate sacrifice of course. The universe requires balance,” she’d drawled. “The life of a princess, the power of an altean alchemist...for the whole universe.”_

_For a moment they were still. Quiet. Frozen. And then the shouting erupted. If Honerva had wanted to sow discord between team Voltron at the very last minute she’d picked the timing well._

_Lance heard Allura’s voice cut through the protests. “I’ll do it.” Her shoulders were bent beneath an invisible weight but she held her head high, altean marks glowing on her cheekbones, highlighting her dark skin._

_“No way.” Pidge's face was aghast as she gripped tightly to Allura’s arm. “You’re going to just give up, now? After everything? Fuck that.”_

_Allura pulled her arm out of Pidge’s grasp. “You all have families, everyone in the universe has a family. This is bigger than me.” Her lovely eyes shone with tears, the droplets clinging to her eyelashes. Lance couldn't believe she was even considering something like this. Never did he think that...after the loss of Altea that Allura might not want to live, or that she might be scared of what was to come after the war. That she might be terrified of the future. So much so she’d sacrifice her own._

_Keith stepped closer to the princess, expression severe. “You’re our family, Allura. We’re not just going to let you die. We’re not going to give up either.” His tone was desperate, frustrated._

_“It’s suicide.”_

_She shook her head, fixing all of them with a furious glare, still staying strong even after all this time. “It’s not suicide, it’s sacrifice.”_

_“Bullshit.” The word was sad, but mostly angry, righteous. Lance had never heard Hunk swear before. It kindled the fire in his gut, burning with conviction. The yellow paladin came round behind Allura, cocooning her within their circle, a steadfast presence behind the princess. Lance nodded towards his friend, ignoring the creeping menace of Honerva’s presence behind them._

_“Hunk’s right,” he’d said. “What she’s saying, it—it can’t be true. We’re not letting you do this, not for us, not for the universe. Coran, Romelle they wouldn’t— they would never want this.” Lance's speech was impassioned, fervent. The desperation of a boy—man about to lose a precious friend. He’s hit by the realisation that despite all being paladins of a giant robot everyone except Allura is human. Powerless. Frustratingly mortal. There’s nothing they can do, even with their crazy, powerful, lions filled with quintessence._

_Wait...The lions…could they—no—but maybe...Lance’s head snapped up, mouth parted, eyes catching Keith’s. He’d reached out a hand next to him, anxiety abating when he felt Keith’s hand immediately latch onto his. It grounded him. Made his voice steady. “We can use the lions.”_

_Pidge’s eyes grew wide behind their glasses. “What?”_

_“The lions were created using Altean alchemy,” Lance said, almost tripping over his words in his haste to get them out. “They’re the most powerful beings in the universe, they’re literally made from quintessence.” His next words dropped like stones into a still pond. “We sacrifice the lions.”_

_“Do you think that would work,” Hunk had asked. His mouth was downturned, eyes laser focused. The same face he made when trying to figure out a complicated scientific problem, or when working on a difficult engine._

_Pidge nodded slowly and pushed their glasses up their nose. “I think so. Lance is right, the lions are crafted from pure quintessence. But how do we…sacrifice them.”_

_“We’d have to harness their quintessence using our connections to them but—“_

_Allura snaps, cutting off Hunk sharply. “No we can’t sacrifice the lions!” Her expression is desperate, her urgency stemming from a fragile hope. “W—what if we—you need them.”_

_“With the restoration of all realities, and with the—” Keith’s mouth twists distastefully “—end of the previous Galran reign, the universe won’t need such a powerful weapon.” His eyes lifted to the Princess’s, a wary hope filling them. “If you didn't have such a self-sacrificial streak, Allura, we wouldn't be arguing like this.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand filling him with a momentary warmth. Lance squeezed back tightly. It felt like a promise._

_Allura blinks, gritting her teeth against the renewed wetness in her eyes. “Okay...Okay, we can...try. It’s dangerous but—I—I want you to know that I love you all so deeply. More than words can describe. In every world and every reality, we will find each other. That I promise you. No matter the outcome. No matter what occurs here today.” She turned then, walking to stand over the bitter and cowering figure of Honerva._

_“It will never work,” she’d hissed. The words were poison and spitfire and shrapnel. Allura gazed down at the fallen witch and when she turned and beckoned the paladins over, her face was not one of a princess, but one of a queen. Regal. Empowered. They stood around Honerva in a circle, trapping her within their ranks, their hands linked._

_“As your son sacrificed his life for his transgressions so too, will you, Honerva.” Allura’s stare is uncompromising, filled with strength and as beautiful as the birth of a new star. The birth of a universe reborn. “You will be the conduit, your alchemic skills and mine.” She took a breath, her altean marks glowing brighter. “Connect to your lions, they will know the way.” Another pause. Her eyes lifted to Hunk, to Pidge, to Keith and finally to Lance. He nodded, dredging up the courage to throw her a wink. A promise. That if anything were to happen, if any sacrifice was to occur, that it was something they’d do together._

_Lance leaned over to press a quick kiss to Keith’s brow. His dark eyes gleamed with tenderness. Lovelier than any utopian reality. “See you on the other side, Mullet.”_

_“Keep the PDA to yourselves, losers,” Pidge huffed._

_Allura and Hunk both cracked a small smile as Keith rolled his eyes, but it was fond and loving despite the fear curled around the corners of his mouth._

_“In every world,” Allura intones. A buzzing static began ringing in Lance’s ears, drowning out his thoughts even as he and the other paladins answered Allura in unison._

_“In every reality,” they pledged. Prayed. Chanting over the sound of Honerva’s desperate cries. Over the tearing of the soul bonds with their lions. Over the blanket of white that descended over their vision. The glittering expanse of pale light the last thing Lance saw before everything went dark._  
  
...

“—Lance. _Lance!”_

He jerks, hand scraping over the jagged cave walls. Lance pulls it back and presses it to his chest. A gentle hand glides over his cheekbone. Comforting and Warm. Dark eyes scan his face, both calculating and concerned. Lance blinks away the pale vision of the rift, eyes refocusing within the darkness of the cavern.

“Sorry, babe. Spaced out looking at these lovely cave walls.” Lance taps his knuckles against the rock. “ _Lovely_ rock, very…” his sentence trails off in the face of Keith’s doubtful expression. Lance resists the urge to fidget under his boyfriend’s serious, take-no-shit gaze. He pushes Keith playfully, skipping away down the cave tunnel and snickering obnoxiously as the other man stumbles. A simple distraction, but effective. Enough for him to skip away.

The tunnel is dark, damp, and Lance can almost taste the memories. See the phantom figures —the younger Keith and Lance— from the past running through the caves. The rocks still bear the ancient, painted figures of the Blue Lion. Of Voltron, and it sends an pang of melancholic longing through his heart. He feels Keith come up beside him. His presence a living thing that tingles across Lance’s skin. Both he and Keith had opted to wear singlets given the humid and heat of the desert, and the sight of Keith’s bare arms is a welcome distraction from his memory. Lance turns his eyes away, a flush working its way up his neck and settling like a shroud onto his cheeks. 

_Gentleman, Lance! Be a gentleman._

In the year since the end of the war, Keith and Lance had often journeyed to the previous home of the Blue Lion. At least once every month or so. 

It began as a way of healing, of coping with the tangible loss they felt within their souls, the loss of Voltron. Now though...it was more of an excuse for Lance and his boyfriend ( _boyfriend!)_ to escape for some _private_ time, which, with Earth still rebuilding and both of them often sent on relief missions with the Blade of Marmora, could be hard to come by.

The time spent away, just the two of them, in the quiet of the caverns was a balm. Their way of mourning, of moving forward, and each time it got a little easier. Some days were harder than others, today for example, so close to the one year anniversary of the end of the war, caused the memories to rise to the forefront of Lance’s conscious mind, instead of being hidden in his and Keith’s nightmares. 

Pidge and Hunk sometimes came with them. Though neither felt quite the same connection to the place, their lions having been found among the stars and not on Earth. Allura— _Queen_ Allura of New Altea—visited every time she and her royal entourage came to Earth from their new planet, often spending hours by herself and then reemerging renewed. The Blue Lion’s old resting place, one of Allura’s only tangible ties to Earth, aside from the paladins of course. Lance shakes his head internally. _Ex-paladins._

Throughout their many trips to the caves, Lance and Keith had plotted at least ten different pathways leading to the Blue Lion’s cavern. Falling fifteen feet through a hole in the ground into a shallow pool of water was only fun _once._

The route they take now is far easier to navigate and one well traveled. Marked by worn footprints. The Blue Lion’s cavern comes into view and suddenly Lance is overcome by a startling wave of _newness_. Like he’s seeing this place for the first time. He steps slowly into the cavern, the walls rising tall before reaching their peak at a hole in the roof of the cave. The light from the gash in the roof highlights the dust Keith kicks up as he scuffs his feets against the ground. Lance takes a moment to appreciate the sight of his boyfriend. Black messy hair (still a mullet) shining in the faint light, cheek scar hidden behind his bangs, dirt on his jeans. The sight of Keith haloed by the light is enough to abate the sense of melancholy that has been creeping up on Lance the closer they get to the anniversary of the war. 

Keith glances at him. Mouth downturned slightly, eyes crinkled slightly at the corners in concern. He looks tired. The shadows of his nightmares making themselves known in the light of day.

“What are you thinking about?”

Lance jolts. Startled from his daze by the very person that dazed him in the first place. He smirks halfheartedly, walking over to join Keith in the circle of the sunlight. “You know I’m always thinking about you, babe.”

A pause. Then a long suffering sigh. Lance leans in to wrap his arms around Keith, burying his face in the other man’s hair. Hiding a small smile against Keith’s neck. 

Keith grips one of the arms wound tightly around his waist. “I’m being serious, Lance. You’ve been spacing out a lot today, and I—I want you to be comfortable enough to talk to me. About _anything_.” Keith’s words shake a little at the end and Lance loosens his hold to peer at his face. With a small flush of shame Lance realises that because he’s been so caught up in his head, he hasn’t thought, really thought, about how Keith would be feeling. 

Well, _no,_ that’s not quite right either. He hasn’t thought about how Keith would _react_ to _Lance’s_ change in mood. To be honest, it still surprises him how in tune they are to each other. 

“I was thinking about the rift. _Again.”_ Lance buries his face in Keith’s hair again, voice quiet. “I think it’s just because the anniversary is coming up soon.” His voice shrinks to a murmur. “Didn’t mean to worry you, Mullet.”

Keith is quiet for a moment. Still. Before he turns in Lance’s arms to face him. They’re about equal height now, Lance having gained a few inches over the winter and it’s nice— _romantic, intimate, sexier—_ to be able to look each other squarely in the eye. 

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Keith says. Tone firm and confident yet his gaze is tinged with shyness. 

Lance’s eyes widen almost comically and his eyebrows skyrocket up to his hairline. He looks rather like a gaping fish and it’s dramatic enough that Keith quirks his lips. Shyness dissolving into amusement.

Lance’s words are strangled. “A—are you _proposing?_ ” The air has been punched out of his lungs, leaving him breathless. As if he’s fought a thousand Galran soldiers. As if his former rival just proposed to him in a dark, decrepit _cave._

 _“What!_ No. I just…” Keith’s eyes focus on somewhere over Lance’s shoulder. “I was just… _curious._ ” 

Lance deflates a little. He didn’t _want_ to be proposed to. Not in a _cave_. Still…

He clears his throat. “Well, sort of.” Lance purses his lips in thought before tugging Keith over to sit on a large flat rock. He keeps their hands linked loosely and Keith rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles gently. “My parents never got married actually. Though they’ve been together for _ages._ So it wasn’t really something I thought about _._ ”

He pictures them now. His mami and papi, hands linked, absent of any rings but still smiling at each other, faces crinkled with happiness and age. 

“They have matching tattoos, though.”

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise, cheeks flushed with the remnants of his embarrassment and the heat. 

“Really?”

Lance nods. Tone fond and nostalgic. The image of two leaping dolphins flashing before him briefly. “They were never really into marriage I don’t think my mami liked the idea of being given away like some prized goat or something,” his thumb glides over Keith’s ring finger absently, “however, they liked the idea of matching tattoos. So instead of having these rings that proclaimed ‘ _this person is mine,’_ they wanted tattoos that said this person and I match,” Lance glances at Keith to check if the other man is following, “they wanted to be autonomous but still show the world that they were twoparts of a pair. Like... _soulmates_.”

Keith hums. Hair falling into his eyes. Dust on his cheekbones. “That’s really beautiful, Lance,” he says softly. 

Lance smiles. Takes a breath. “I’d like to…” he pauses, hesitation dragging his words back down into his chest. “Do that with you, if you’d like.” Keith’s dark eyes swallow him whole. “Y’know, matching tattoos. Or something like that. Just for us.”

It feels silly. To be nervous about this. Matching tattoos. Considering that they’d been together a year. Considering that they’d forged their relationship in war and trust and bloodshed. 

Keith nudges his nose against Lance’s cheek. Knees knocking together. A warm breath ghosting over Lance’s cheek as Keith presses a sweet kiss there. 

“I’d like that.” He says. Marshmallow soft. “But maybe I should pick the design. Wouldn’t want to end up with something cliche, would we?” 

Lance squawks, pushing Keith away, his hands gripping the other man's defined shoulders. “ _Cliche!_ Me? Dont be crazy. _”_ He crosses his arms, pouting slightly. Lance is the person with _style_ in this relationship, thank you very much. And, he’s certainly not the person still walking around with a _mullet_. Psh.

“I did have something in mind,” he sniffs haughtily, “but I guess you’ll never know.”

Keith screws up his face, nose wrinkling adorably. “Lance, c’mon just tell me.”

“You might think it’s too cliche. Too _cheesy._ ” Lance waves a hand dismissively and Keith catches it in his grip, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“ _Hey_.” Keith’s eyes are earnest, his words dripping with a fervent sort of affection. “Tell me.”

Lance’s brain stalls. Eyes starting and stopping over every one of the other man’s features. Eyes, scar, jaw. The light shining on his hair. The curve of his lips, chapped and marred by a small white scar that Keith told him came from a fist fight in his youth.

“A pair of wings,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “Our wings.” A heavy pause “That we formed with Voltron. When we were journeying back from space. I just thought…” Lance glances down. He shouldn’t be nervous. _Get it together Lance. “_ It's something that’s just _us_ , y’know. Something we created together.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Keith releases a whisper-quiet breath. “Where would the tattoo go,” he murmurs, eyes shining and the crests of his cheeks flushed. He looks beautiful. Like a fairytale.

Lance lifts a hand to glide across Keith’s collarbones. “Here maybe...I know that wings are supposed to go on the back but—I—I like the idea of them sitting over the heart.” He shrugs, eyes still fixed on the sharp angles of Keith’s collarbones. “I mean, physically the heart is located lower but—“

—he’s cut off by Keith pressing a firm and fiery kiss to his lips and he presses back just as eagerly. A burning warmth unfurls in his chest like ink in the water, spreading from the roots of his hair to his toes.

“I love you _so much_ ,” Keith says against his lips. Pressing the words into them again and _again._ Staining Lance’s mouth with the strawberry wine taste of love.

Lance pulls back for a second, dazed and smiling. “So…” the word is drawn out, bordering on coy, “is that a yes to the tattoo?”

Keith rolls his eyes, fondness and exasperation painted on his face in equal measure. He pulls Lance back towards him, hands cupping the back of his neck. “ _Yes._ ” Keith brushes a thumb across Lance’s bottom lip and his breath hitches, the sensation tingling like electricity. “Now, shut up and kiss me.”

And Lance does.

Like, _a lot._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! this fic underwent a lot of transformation to get here, originally it was part of a 5 + 1 set of snippets but I ended up ditching that and patching together this instead. Hopefully the characterisation is ok, I haven't actually written a lot of Keith/Lance interactions recently so...let me know. I tried to write as them as equally hopeless as each other, #dumbandinlove  
> In terms of the alternate ending I staunchly believe that the lions could have been sacrificed instead. And, they ended up disappearing into space anyway so....what was the point? But like also super powerful, quintessence filled beings...c'mon. Was it their way of trying to end Allurance without character development. Anyway, huge respect to our QUEEN Allura. She and Romelle are very happy together, thank you very much.
> 
> The wing tattoo is a personal and beloved idea of mine. Marriage isn't really my thing and while I love all of the proposal and wedding fics out there it's not something I would write sooo.... this is a happy compromise. Basically a chosen soulmate mark, and what better mark than the (klance) wings of Voltron. 
> 
> Also #letpidgeswear
> 
> If you're interested check out my other fics. One is an oneshot where Allura becomes the Black Paladin and the other is an ongoing college au featuring Klance and Romellura (if you're waiting on the second chapter of that, it's coming I promise. Definitely before Christmas!)
> 
> And I'd like to dedicate this fic to @_kiilea who is an amazing Voltron artist and whose beautiful prints I ordered arrived today!!!
> 
> Much Love, Fonda!
> 
> ..


End file.
